Nightmare: The 57th Games
by Aspect1
Summary: Screams that pierce the darkness, opened doors leading into the unknown, and fear taking hold of every single tribute. Tarot cards that spin in reverse, spiders creeping across the chipped marble floor, and the throne that awaits for someone to sit on it. An arena that threatens to break everyone, even the spectators and the makers. Nightmare.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not the Hunger Games.**

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Curled up on her swivel chair, Morrigan Warfire presses a few holographic keys and then places three long and elegant fingers on her lips. Screams pierce the darkness and echo. The Head Gamemaker for the year giggles and claps her hands together in delight. She leans forward and her dark green eyes eagerly follow the course of one of the guinea pigs in the blackness of the arena.

Those guinea pigs are prisoners. Snow has specially allowed them a few days of sweet freedom before having them thrown into the arena to test it out. To say Morrigan is pleased and the prisoners terrified is an understatement. Morrigan is elated and the prisoners are wishing to go back to being tortured.

Morrigan watches one of them traverse a route in the arena and after a moment's indecision, decides to switch the lights on. Once she does, the prisoner lets out a bloodcurdling scream as the muttation waiting for him lunges and rips him apart. Morrigan's eyes brighten and she leans so far forward she nearly falls off the chair.

"That's it! That's it!" she crows as she watches the oversized spider start to feed on the prisoner's innards.

She lets out an insane giggle and spins around five times before coming to a stop. She draws up a holographic screen, taps in a few numbers and the screens showing the arena fades to black. For now, the guinea pigs shall rest. But only for the night. In the morning, she has new terrors to test on them.

She leaps off her chair and picks up her black jacket then turns to face the darkness and calls, "Leticia!"

A black-haired Avox shuffles forward, head hung low. Her hands hold a tray that has a plate of uneaten chicken, now cold. Morrigan smiles and walks forward, placing one hand on her servant's shoulder. She bends and whispers into her ear. Leticia nods and limps away.

Pleased with her own handiwork and how unusually subservient her Avox is, Morrigan skips out of the room. Once she has locked the room, she decides to make her way to the dining hall where Snow is sure to be. She has things to tell him and she was certain that the President would most certainly be delighted to hear them. As delighted as he could get anyway. Their tastes differ by quite a lot.

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**A/N: My second SYOT! This will be started as soon as _Where Little Birds Play_ is completed which is actually only two chapters away. You can find the tribute application on my profile and all filled and reserved spots. Bloodbaths have already been drawn so do not worry. Any Sues or Stus will die in the bloodbath though, irregardless of district. Title your PM Nightmare Tribute.**

**I like interesting tributes and yes, psychopathic ones. But there's a limit to how many psychopaths I will accept. A unique and wide range of tributes will be best so feel free to be creative! As for names, please, please, _please_, don't name them something generic like "Mary" or "John". Just...please. **

**Also, this is the sequel to _Where Little Birds Play_ and a few references will be made to it and its prequel, _A False Garden_. _A False Garden_ will not be written in conjunction with _Nightmare_ however. My main focus will be on this though.**

**One more thing, the sequence for _Where Little Birds Play_, as in how I do it (the chapters and deaths and the like), will be different in _Nightmare_. **


	2. Chapter 1: Prelude to Destruction

_Green rushes by,_

_A blur of white_

**Tamisyn Chintz, Female, 14 (District Eight)**

My district partner is terrifying.

He has always been seen as the insane one back in District Eight and though I have seen how he treats others, his insanity always seem so surreal to me. Right up to the reaping, anyway. When his name was called, he started giggling and practically skipped to the stage.

My grip tightens on my right wrist where I wear my token; a bracelet made of fake gold. It belonged to my sister. From where I sit, I continue watching Insane as he remains fixated on the blank television screen. I sink further back when he turns his head to look at me. His empty cobalt blue eyes meet with my own olive green ones.

He smiles at me and I hesitantly smile back. He is fair-skinned and has close cropped red hair. A thin scar runs from the bottom of his left eye to the side of his cheek. He looks like he is about sixteen.

The grip on my wrist becomes almost painful. I have to get him to like me, I must. But the image of him skinning a rabbit alive in front of the entire district just this morning is still too fresh in my mind. He decapitated it after that and then tossed it at a stranger who immediately started shrieking once it touched her. Will he do the same thing to me in the arena? I can't even begin to imagine the agony.

Even then, I have to try.

I stand up from my chair and place my hands behind my back. My legs are wobbling a little and I am afraid that if I speak, my voice will tremble. His smile turns into a stare and I feel goosebumps. It feels as if he is seeing right into me, his once empty blue orbs now piercing.

He raises one hand and unwillingly, I flinch. He lets out a low chuckle then lowers it again. I hear muffled thumping on the crimson couch and realises he wants me to seat beside him. I shuffle forward and lower myself into the seat beside him.

"Tamisyn, right?" his voice is soft and gentle. It carries confidence at the same time and feels like liquid metal.

"Yes," I answer and to my relief, do not stammer.

Before he can reply though, a door to another carriage of the train slides open. Right when it closes, I start to feel the train move and nausea overcomes me. I grip the edge of the couch tightly and squeeze my eyes shut.

_This isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real,_ repeats over and over again in my mind. I sniffle once and feel something wet roll down my cheek. A cold finger brushes across my cheek and in the distance, I hear a snort. No! I absolutely cannot cry here. My mentor-

"Tamisyn, open your eyes," that clear voice calls again, interrupting my train of thought and I obey.

"It's a beautiful green, is it not?" Insane asks his mentor who arches an eyebrow.

A woman steps out from behind the male mentor. She has short ivory black hair and equally dark eyes. Her skin tone is dark and she gives off the air of someone who is well-off…or at least well-fed. Her dressing is simple, being only a black shirt and pants. The man behind her however, is well-dressed.

He wears a suit and his neat appearance is befitting of a formal gathering. His dark brown hair is slicked back but his hazel eyes show utter boredom.

They are both tall.

The woman speaks, "I'm Sofia and this is Vernon."

"I can speak for myself," Vernon replies before heading to take a seat at the dining table. He immediately heads for the knife and use it to apply butter on a bun.

Sofia's pale lips quirk up into a slight wry smile and sits on a single red couch beside us. Her eyes run over us quickly and she purses her lips. Her eyes focus on Insane when he reaches for the remote.

"We're going to discuss, Insane," she says.

"I want to watch the other reapings," he calmly answers, so unlike the mad boy I saw this morning.

"That's a good idea, check out all the other tributes," Vernon approves.

Sofia narrows her eyes as one long finger taps the glass table thoughtfully. She relents with a sigh and stands up to head to the dining table. Insane grins at his victory and switches on the television.

"You don't talk much do you," Insane remarks as he rests his feet on the table. The escort would scream if she sees that.

Just when I am about to respond, he adds, "You were there today, at the Town Square. How did you find what I did to the rabbit?"

It was revolting. Why the Peacekeepers haven't locked him up yet is a mystery to all but him.

"It looked fun, I liked it," I lie.

The small smile on his face widens into a grin as he turns around and faces me, suddenly leaning forward. I catch a whiff of dried blood and wonder what else he has done before the Reaping. He leans back and then returns his attention to the television. Onscreen, the video of the Dark Days is showing.

"That's interesting; I didn't expect a reply like that out of a…twelve year old."

"I'm fourteen," I correct. Secretly, I feel relieved that I had answered correctly. Perhaps his opinion of me would rise higher now.

"All the better. I'm fourteen too. Too bad we didn't know each other too well back there," he replies, spitting out the word 'there' as if it disgusts him.

Then he mutters something that sounds vaguely like 'This'll make it easier to kill her anyway, not as if it wouldn't be if we did know each other'. It chills me to the bone and I turn back to the District One reaping.

Even if Insane is kind towards me, that does not erase the fact that he can kill without a second's thought. Everyone knows of how he slaughtered someone who angered him enough.

Onscreen, girls are screaming and yelling 'I volunteer'. A mini bloodbath is actually being created and I wince when a girl twists the arm of another girl. They seem like savages. Then a girl with light brown hair did into a plait sails past them and walks up the stage. She announces her name as 'Dancer Seraphine' and the other girls walk back in line, disgruntled.

Surprisingly, the same thing with the male side does not happen. A male is called out but no one moves and the eighteen age group parts to let a guy with blond hair so light it looks white walk out. The camera zooms in and I see that his eyes are a confident emerald green. Once he's up onstage, the escort asks him his name and he gives it.

Tassel Mylar.

I glance over at Insane whose eyes focus on Dancer and Dancer alone. A sadistic smile plays at the edge of his lips. His eyes glitter and his lips move but I hear nothing. And then, I catch something.

_"Look at her, trying to hide the fact that she's shaking like a leaf. How…adorable."_

I tense and create a little more distance between him and me, hoping that I am being subtle. It feels as if he is picking his prey and claiming them as his. It hits me then.

Insane belongs to the Hunger Games.

"I don't disagree that I belong to the Hunger Games but nor do I agree that I belong to it."

I startle. I haven't realised I had talked aloud. He smiles at me, looking more amused than anything else and ruffles my hair affectionately. The sudden sign of affection makes my eyes go wide and he chuckles. I wonder if he has a younger sibling at home. Then another thought makes me hesitate; what if he is only toying with me to see my reactions?

"Blood is my life. I suppose you're fortunate in that aspect." It riles me up. Who is he say to what's fortunate for me and what's not? But I do not say that and allow him to continue. "My life can be a parallel of the Hunger Games but it is egoistical to say that, no? My parents…"

He trails off and though his face is wiped clean of expression, his eyes reflect sadness. Silence falls and stretches on. The only noise being made is silverware clinking against plates. I feel our mentors' eyes on us, watching our every move and documenting every word that falls from our mouths.

He turns his head back to the reapings replay and doesn't even comment when he finds out that we have completely missed watching District Two's.

District Three gives a girl who looks shell-shocked when her name is called. Electra Bolt is her name and she is from the age thirteen section. A girl beside her hugs her and a Peacekeeper has to literally tear Electra away from her friend and haul her to the stage. There, she breaks down. How will the careers see this?

The next one to be called is someone by the name of Binar. The camera zooms in on a twelve year old boy. He walks out on shaky legs but before he can get far, someone else steps out. He boasts an imposing figure and though Binar cries for him, Wyre, to stop, he continues walking on until he reaches the stage.

"Wyre Faraday," he introduces when the escort asks him.

When Wyre and Electra shake hands, I notice that the grim look on his face softens. My hands start to shake and I grip the edge of the couch even tighter. He looks like he could kill easily with his hands despite his gentle expression.

District Four's reaping is a lot more peaceful compared to District Two and One. Even when Insane was talking to me during District Two's reaping, I could hear shouting and shrieking in the background and a particular bloodcurdling one.

The two tributes, Amanda Teslin and Caine Dalit, are volunteers. No one stops them and Insane murmurs that this must be prearranged. True to what he says, the other careers look less than happy to see them up onstage.

When they shake hands, they grip each other's hand so tightly that their knuckles turned white. If looks could kill, their glares would have reduced the other to dust.

I glance at Insane. He has already looked away from the television and at the window. His gaze seems particularly directed at one spot. I look at it and see nothing. Green rushes by us and I clench my hands. Uncertainty strikes me again. How will Paisley react in this situation?

"Insane, don't attack any of the Peacekeepers in the Capitol," Vernon warns.

My partner does not even turn to look at Vernon when he replies.

"I am the one who will decide my death. If I choose to die then, I will die."

**Cinder Ash, Male, 15 (District Twelve)**

I ride to my certain death.

Beside me, my partner, Augusta Rorer chats away. She doesn't seem to understand that I want to be left alone but I don't have the energy to push her away either. She jumps from topic to topic, some having virtually no connection. There isn't any pause and it continues and continues and continues. I swear, she's acting like she's happy to _be_ in the Games.

Haymitch Abernathy is nowhere to be seen and our escort, Genovia, merely sniffs when we ask her and points one pink finger to a bottle of whisky.

The reapings play on television and the District Five girl walks up. The boy from Five is reaped and his name is Trellis Powers. He looks awfully traumatised. My clasped hands' grip tightens. I look at Augusta's right index finger. A silver wedding ring glitters there; her token.

"Hey Cinder!" she chirps, "What's your token?"

That tactless comment stings more than I thought it would. My parents care for me equates to that of dust, even worse than a fly. At least when it comes to flies, they will swat them away but with dust, it slides past their eyes, unnoticed.

They did not even bother to come and say goodbye to me.

Worthless piece of trash I am.

"I don't have any," I reply.

Her gray eyes widen and she hurriedly mumbles an apology. I nod in acceptance and turn my attention back to the screen. I recognize the girl from District Six as a sister of a reaped tribute from the 49th Games. Her face is blank but her amber eyes smoulder with hatred.

"Cinder," Augusta breaks my concentration once more.

"What?" I ask, trying not to let my irritation show. Judging by her slight deflation, I failed.

"Do you think we'll live through the bloodbath?" Her voice wavers with hesitation and fear.

I stare at her for a few moments in astonishment. Just right until then, I was under the impression that she held no fear but it appears that I am wrong.

She lets out a nervous laugh and shifts uneasily. She breaks eye contact and stares resolutely at the screen as she speaks.

"I'm…scared," she admits, her hands wringing the hem of her pale green dress.

It is only now that I hear the quaver in her voice. Her gray eyes no longer sparkle. They have darkened. I say nothing. Thoughts of survival have flitted across my mind enchantingly but I know better. Physically, I am weak. Mentally, I would say I am strong but at the bloodbath, physical strength comes into play, not mental. Already, I am doomed from the start. Three days of training cannot make me into a hulk. The last thing I want to do is to bring down Augusta's spirits.

I return to the reapings replay...and gape at it.

A boy has fought his way out from the seventeen section and is shouting at a girl with long brown curls to stop. The expression on his face is pure pain though, as he keeps glancing between the older and younger girl. He seems torn between them. I am dimly aware of Augusta gripping my arm tightly as she watches it.

The younger girl, the reaped tribute, is screaming at the top of her lungs for the volunteer to stop. The latter turns back, gives the two of them a cheerful smile tinged with sadness and hops onto the stage. She declares herself as Raine Oaken, all the while with the same smile on her face.

When the male, Axon Axel, is reaped, the district becomes even more silent than before if it is even possible.

The boy from earlier has been reaped.

"No!"

The sheer decibel of the girl from just now makes me jump. A man pushes his way through the Peacekeepers and walks over to the little girl. He grabs her by the arm and carries her up, arms forming a prison around her.

Once Axon reaches the stage, the escort asks them to perform the ritual of shaking hands. Instead, Axon grabs Raine and pulls her into a hug.

Such weakness would be fatal.

A tugging on my left sleeve brings my attention to Augusta who stares at me with wide eyes. It is only then did I realise that she has been quiet all this while.

"T-the reaped girl is Lynn Axel. It's Axon's little sister," she chokes out.

Words cannot describe my shock. No wonder Axon seemed so torn earlier. It seemed as if he loves Raine as well, if that hug is anything to go by.

"It's too cruel," I mutter and tear my sleeve away from Augusta. I suddenly can't bear to watch this anymore.

"You aren't going anywhere, little boy," a patronizing voice greets me from behind.

I jump and turn my head around so fast it gives me whiplash. Standing and looking down at me-us is Haymitch Abernathy.

He looks as drunk as ever.

He walks over to a free seat and slumps into it, a glass of whisky in hand. He points to the screen and orders me to stay where I am. I glare at him but do as he tells me. He is supposed to know best…though I don't trust him that much on that.

Tamisyn Chintz from District Eight is nothing special. Her reaction is expected from a reaped tribute that looks –pardon my harshness- weak. The difference is that the people of the district actually looks a little grieved to see her go but it feels like there is certain fakeness to it as well, as a girl is smiling.

The boy however, is completely different. His entire age group has already given him a wide berth and when his name is called, they split like the Red Sea to let him pass.

Insane is laughing. He rakes his hand through his hair and flashes a devilish grin straight at the camera. Practically skipping, he hops onto stage. I notice his fingers are stained carmine- the colour of blood. My blood runs cold as I continue watching him carelessly wear that grin.

Demonic comes to mind.

**Raine Oaken, 16, Female (District Seven)**

Axon grips my hand tightly. Ever since we met outside the rooms for the goodbye, he has held my hand. It gives me a small measure of comfort and strength. We aren't dating but I do know I feel something for him…though that escapes me.

He turns away from the reapings flashing before us and smiles at me. He has eye bags under his eyes and I know that he stayed up late the night before to tuck his younger sister into bed. Regardless, the smile fills me with warmth and I beam back at him. My heartbeat quickens a little and I blush furiously then turn back to the replay.

That brief connection has made us miss the entirety of District Nine's reaping and I scowl.

"Axon!" I exclaim indignantly though I can't find the words to really berate him.

Ash, our mentor, snorts from behind us but says nothing.

"It's not my fault you get distracted so easily," he blithely answers then glances at me and nods appreciatively at my worn moss green dress. That simple action makes me turn redder and childishly, I pinch his arm. His entire face scrunches up in pain.

"Ow ow ow! You look pretty!" he gasps out.

I stop pinching him and scowl, "Don't think that that compliment earns you any forgiveness!"

"But you've already forgiven me. It's written all over your _crimson_ face," he points out.

A sigh leaves me and I let him have this victory. Selfish as it sounds, I'm glad he's here with me. It takes my mind off the horrific reaping and Hunger Games. I know that one of us has to die to let the other win but when the time comes to it, I hope it isn't down to the two of us.

"Alliance," I ask as I return back to the reapings where, much to my surprise, is only at showing the male walking up.

"Of course," Axon replies and his grip tightens again. I squeeze his hand and rest my head on his shoulder. He stiffens though and I frown. He has never given that reaction before then my eyes fix on something and I realise why.

Bloodstains splatter the aisle of the District Ten square. Onstage, a Peacekeeper has put a gun to the head of female tribute who is oddly calm. Her lips curl up into a mysterious smile and she sways a little from side to side.

I recall District Eight's reaping and the boy. They seem almost similar but something set them apart. Is it how the girl's fringe cover her eyes or the almost serene feel coming off her that is different from Insane who doesn't seem to reserve himself?

"Watch the reapings and learn every single aspect of the tributes while you can. The fact that blood is already spilling should tell you that these isn't going to be normal," Ash tells us from behind.

"What's going to happen?" I can barely hear Axon's voice. All I can concentrate on is the bloodstains.

_A silver blade flashes and slashes down diagonally. Blood spurts from the wound and the tribute collapses onto the floor. Her blood pools around her and "Ariel!" is heard. A throwing knife cuts through the air and buries itself in the chest of Ariel's killer- the District One boy. He falls to the ground, dead. _

_A brown-haired boy rushes to Ariel's side and pulls her head onto his lap. It lolls to the side and empty eyes stare into space. He takes her hand in his and cries her name over and over again desperately. She cannot die, she could not die. Tears brim at the edge of his dark sapphire eyes and they fall one by one, splashing onto her pale cheek and rolling down. _

_He holds her limp body tightly against his and sobs. _

_His allies gather near him but in a circle, secluding him. They engage in quiet discussion while listening to his anguished cries. Some of them take pity and the others could care less. Nevertheless, they nod and face Henry. _

_The leader takes a step forward, sword raised high. He murmurs an insincere sorry and plunges the sabre down. _

_It sinks into Henry's flesh. He howls in pain. The stabber pulls out the blade and stabs him again and again and again. He makes sure to hit the major arteries and soon, the floor of the coliseum loses its original gray. Scarlet stains the ground and trickles steadily between the cracks._

_Down, down it goes. And the leader watches it, as if entranced._

_He yanks out his sword and watches Henry's body slump to the ground, on top of Ariel's. His face is blank. Murder and betrayal is never enjoyable. Still, he turns back to the remainder of his allies and smiles. _

_Later, he would turn on all of them and kill all five but one. That one would kill him and emerge as victor of the 52__nd__ Hunger Games._

I'm brought back to earth by Axon hugging me. He strokes my hair and back comfortingly, whispering words which meaning was known only to me. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in the crook of his neck. Rarely do I space out when at the sight of blood but it was so poignant.

It takes a while before Axon releases me and when he does, it is District Twelve's reaping. We watch in silence as Augusta Rorer is reaped. She continues standing, not moving. The only sign that she has heard is her wide eyes. A Peacekeeper marches forward and pulls her to the stage, dumping her there unceremoniously. Her change of expression is incredible, going from shock to realisation and then something almost close to tears but she does not breakdown.

She has strength, I find, strength that I do not have. I bite my lower lip and cast my gaze downwards. Though I have missed seeing some of the tributes, I can tell that this year will be no easier. It may even be harder.

The male, Cinder Ash, is reaped as well. He wears a resigned look and seems to be contemplating something as he walks up, almost strolls, to the stage.

"He has given up already," Axon states with no inflection. "He has consigned himself to his fate."

Axon seems certain that Cinder will die. All I see in Cinder's dead amber eyes is a spark that needs to ignite. But it glows faintly, so faint that it almost can't be seen.

With that, the replay of the reapings is over and the television is switched off. We sit at the dining table to discuss strategies with Ash though we first sort out what we're good at. As usual of District Seven, Axon and I are good with axes though I tend towards lighter weapons and he heavier ones.

Ash nods in approval and sips from his glass of water. I glance at it and wonder why he is drinking only water when most other mentors would go for something more extravagant.

"In my arena, we had no water. Blood was replaced with it," he says suddenly and then smiles at my startling. He changes the topic. "Maple will meet us at the Capitol. She went there earlier because of a prior arrangement."

It suddenly occurs to me that even I did win, my life would still belong to the Capitol. As a child eligible for the Hunger Games, my fate depends on it. As Victor of one such Game, whether I will live or not depends on how I cope with the Capitol.

"You both should be able to go pretty far in the Games if you make the correct judgments. One thing I am worried about is the bond between you two though. Will one of you break if the other dies?"

Never have I thought about it. Though death has always felt very real to me, at least after Henry's death, the mere thought of Axon dying left me…in near tears.

The two of us are silent, unable to answer the question. It remains clear to me but yet I cannot admit it. What of Axon? I look at him and find that he looks very troubled. I remember what he did earlier during our reaping. It is hard to describe what I felt then. Gladness and relief that he didn't want me to die but sadness and shock that he would actually rather his younger sister take my place in the Hunger Games. I know that he is-was torn about the decision though.

My heart clenches. What if he actually feels relieved that it is I who stand beside him instead of Lynn?

Then, I feel my right hand being taken up. I turn to see Axon brushing his lips lightly across my knuckles and my face heats up and my heartbeat quickens. What is he doing?!

"I think," He answers softly, "I might break."

I look to see Ash's reaction and see him staring open-mouthed at us or Axon more like. Then, I see a smile so gentle and warm grace Axon's lips. I have never seen it before in all my eleven years of being with him.

"Because I love her too much."

Euphoria floods through me and without even knowing it, I have already flung my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. I can tell Axon is surprised because he takes a while to return my hug. I turn my head to see Ash and his facial expression fills me with dread.

After a while more, the train glides to a halt and the doors open. Axon takes my hand in his and flashes me a confident grin which I return and together, we walk out.

The screams of the Capitolites make me giddy. Normally, I'd feel disgusted but with Axon by my side, it feels like I can take everything thrown at me. Hands held tightly, we walk down the steps to meet our stylists.

Little did I know that ours was a love fated to fall from the very beginning.

_Darkness falls, _

_The time to parade has come_

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**A/N: And the first chapter of Nightmare! It's the reapings and train rides combined and as you can tell, there are some obvious spaces for the reapings. This means that I have not received tributes for it. My profile has been fully updated to reflect empty and reserved spots. I will reference to the reapings once the spots are filled and maybe even do a few direct flashbacks to complete it.**

**This will not be written hand-in-hand with A False Garden. I changed my mind and I'm going to rewrite what I have for AFG. **

**I hope I did the tributes displayed here justice! The little sentences/quotes/words at the beginning and end will reference the arena itself or what happens to the arena or maybe something else entirely depending on how I go about the chapter.**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter :).**

**Also, a collab that I'm part of has just posted the first chapter to its reapings! The title is Fourteen so go and check it out. My tribute is Ryan Jenkins from District Five.**

**What'd you think of the cover for Nightmare?**


	3. Chapter 2: Fanfare

_Perfection in beauty,_

_made to flaunt_

**Air Port, 14, Female (District Six)**

_His hand rose and caressed my cheek. His touch was every bit as how I remembered, slow and light, so light that it was almost a brush, and loving. His lips curved into a gentle smile and my name fell from his lips. I whispered his name, tongue rolling around the R that begins it. His hazel eyes so like mine lit up and he bent his head toward mine._

_Eagerly, I raised mine and our lips met. Chapped lips met my own smooth ones and instead of those passionate ones we usually favoured and had, this was sweet and lasting. Warmth filled me and my arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him even closer. We parted and he took one more step closer to me. Our bodies met and molded into each other's perfectly, just like how it has always been. _

_His hands rose and I felt him place something around my neck. It sealed with a clasp and we took one step back. Light shone through the small window in the room of the Justice Building we were in, bathing us in it. Our shadows casted short yet they somehow still managed to meet with each other. _

_"I love you."_

_Love- a word that is misused so easily. And despite it, I felt utter truth in Rest's words. His love is genuine. Young we may be, forbidden we are, but nothing can stop us. _

_"I love you too."_

_His smile was the brightest thing I have ever known._

"Perfect!" my stylist crows and spins me around twice, breaking me from my memory of my goodbye with Rest.

He steps back and with a flourish, presents me to my mentor, Alec Scott- victor of the 56th Hunger Games. I am dressed in a strapless golden gown that cinches at the waist before flaring out. Silver carved in the shape of feathers line the skirt, representing a bird's feathers. It's heavy and I can barely move around in it but I keep on a straight face and pretend as if it does not affect me. Silver body paint paints a picture of wings on my arms and bare back. My long blond hair is done up into a crown bun that sits snugly at the top of my head.

"You look nice," Alec compliments. I nod and turn around stiffly to face my district partner, Klint Merlin.

He wears a pair of golden pants and is left shirtless. Feathers cover his upper torso and arms, painted in silver. Like mine, his pants are lined in silver feathers as well. His usual messy auburn hair is styled to one side, his fringe covering the right part of his forehead.

"You look great!" he beams at me. A smile breaks out on my face at that and I am taken aback at the realness in it.

"Thanks," I answer softly. I remember Klint, having seen him a few times. He was always helping around the orphanages in the district and is in fact quite well-liked by the children. Envy surges up in me whenever I think of that. Being liked is foreign to me, I only know adoration. I wonder if Rest knows how it is like to be liked.

My heart twists a little at the thought of Rest and I am reminded of our goodbye…and the ring that is currently in my stylist's hands. He refused to let me wear it no matter how much I asked (it was really more of begging, admittedly). It 'ruined the outfit' according to him. Alec had to step in eventually and he sided with Blandus.

"Air," a cold voice calls.

I turn around to face a woman with hair the colour of flame. Her clear blue eyes are cold. She dresses in the usual Capitol fanfare yet with a touch of tastefulness. I suppose she is expected to appear stylish though, her being a manager for models, specifically two- me and Rest.

"Flare," my voice is a murmur.

She strides towards me, bends so that she is eye level with me. Our eyes meet and I almost break eye contact. I don't however, having being taught to maintain eye contact no matter who I face. Without realizing it, I have drawn myself up and opened myself up a little to emit confidence. Flare nods approvingly and a smile flashes across her face. Pride suffuses me but I carefully keep it away from my face.

"Get the crowd's adoration," her right index finger strokes my left cheek. "Mostly everyone knows you as one half of the 'Twin Stars' of District Six, make them believe that you are a contender as well." She stands and makes to leave but before she does, she adds, "Come back for Rest."

My breath hitches and I can only stare in horror as she walks away. What will she do to Rest now? Or would she do nothing at all and commercialize our relationship as 'forbidden love'? I whirl around and stare up at the chariot looming in front of me. There is still a good amount of time before the parading starts, around fifteen minutes. I swallow. I have fifteen minutes to plan out the mask I will wear. My hands are clammy and I am starting to break out in cold sweat. If Rest were to be here, I would know what to do.

But now, I am all alone.

"Your skirt's made of brocade right, Air Port?"

I jump at the voice behind and whirl around. Behind me, Insane Velvet from District Eight stands. A cloak is wrapped around him so I cannot see what he wears. He is alone though his partner stands a little way off from behind him. She looks unwilling to be there, shifting a little but keeping a small smile on her face. It is then that I remember I have yet to answer Insane's question.

"Yes."

He beams and gestures to Tamisyn. She notices it but does not go forward because she is talking with Klint. Instead, she offers a small smile to me, a smile which I return though it is done more out of formality than anything else.

She wears an electric blue evening gown that winds down like a corkscrew before flaring out in an array of colours. The hem staggers and it reveals to have more skirts underneath, a total of three. A large pink and blue with white polka dots satin bow rests upon her head. She looks rather small in it actually.

"Yarn-dyed taffeta," I guess for the skirts, "and satin for the gown."

"Correct, I wouldn't expect any less of the top female model from District Six anyway." His eyes gleam and leave me feeling a little exposed. The blood on his hands at his reaping comes to mind and I take one step back.

He chuckles and without even looking back, says, "Your district partner appears to be enjoying himself."

I am about to direct my gaze to Klint but Insane's hand catches my chin and holds it firmly in place. Our eyes lock and his grip tightens. His face becomes unreadable and his cobalt blue orbs darken. His other hand grips my left wrist tightly. We aren't that close and yet the distance between us feels minimal.

Finally, he let go and the breath I have not realised I had been holding escapes.

"Allies," he states.

"And why?" I bite back. Allying with Insane is definitely not a priority on my list. He…quite frankly speaking, scares me. He seems the type to turn and backstab his 'comrades' at any given time.

"Rowenna, the Eleven girl, asked me and stay away from Vanessa Carlton; she doesn't seem to like you. Anyway, you need someone to," he snorts at this part, "protect you."

Vanessa Carlton? I turn around to see the girl from District Ten glaring at me. Intense hatred burns in her obsidian eyes and she turns her back to me. I continue watching her interact with her partner for a while before returning my attention to Insane.

"Why though? It's not as if I have done anything to her!" I exclaim.

"You haven't, but your older sister has. Aspire Port was it? The killer of the 49th Games, I remember her. She killed Ten's brother. She was…so deadly and beautiful all at the same time." I started to have this feeling that Insane has an obsession with her. "Certainly more beautiful than you ever will be."

That last statement irks me more than it should. Maybe it is because I have heard many people praise my looks as refined and elegant. My and Rest's looks have been likened to that of a porcelain doll so many times. I wonder what their reaction would be like if that beauty is to be chipped at.

"I don't know how you judge beauty, but I assure you that my sister…will never be as perfect as me," the last few words are whispered.

Perfection. When have I known otherwise? The times with Aspire are now past, nearly forgotten. Have I even cherished the memories with her? With her, as I remember vaguely, I was myself. But after her death, that core of me has vanished.

Our parents tossed me into modeling after Aspire died. I did it because without Aspire, I had lost my worth to them. With Aspire, I was noticed, loved, given affection but once she was gone…that vanished. And so with modeling, I managed to regain some of that. It is no secret that my parents still favour Aspire even now but…is it so wrong to try to become the perfect daughter they desire from me just to gain a little bit of affection from them?

"Poor thing," Insane coos and pats my head.

I swat his hand away and turn to my chariot. How dare he bring up those memories again! He laughs and takes two steps back.

"Well, I'll see you in training tomorrow. Do take care of yourself and tell me if Vanessa does anything to you. I shall…take care of her for you should that happen."

"You're weird," I retort, well aware that even though I have not told him I am not part of his alliance, he will still take me as such.

He twists his head around, wearing an almost…stricken expression.

"How can you say that, Satin?"

He lurches forward but a figure steps in front of me, putting one protective arm out. It is Cynthia, my mentor. Now that I think about it, where has she been?

"It's time for the chariot rides, Insane Velvet, go back," she orders.

His eyes narrow but he turns on his heel and walks away. Cynthia turns to face me with a steely blue gaze.

"Ally with Insane at your own risk," she warns in her soft voice, "but never take his side or agree with anything he says. It will gain disfavour with the Capitol."

She closes her eyes briefly and places a hand on my back, leading me to the onyx chariot that awaits me.

"Clarify as soon as possible that you are not Satin. Don't lead him on any further or else when he finds out…I cannot guarantee you will live."

Klint holds a hand out for me to grab. He pulls me up onto the chariot and move to his side to allow me space.

"Cynthia, wait!" I call. She turns around and waits for me to continue. "Who is Satin?"

"Someone he loved very much, so much so that he would willingly sacrifice himself for her. She is also the same girl who has made him into who he is and painted most of his life in crimson."

With that, she turns away, joining Alec.

**Caine Dalit, 18, Male (District Four)**

Begrudgingly, Amanda does look a tinier bit prettier in her chariot outfit. I rather face spiders than tell her that though. She wears a long silver dress with different shades of blue sewn onto it, made to look like the ocean. Her hair is tied in a tight bun on top of her head and it's decorated with the same blue material that's sewn to her dress.

We're currently by our chariot, the fewer-than-usual career pack having been dispersed to get to their respective chariots. One's girl has all but ditched us in favour of being alone, as shown with how she isolates herself from everyone. Though the girl from Twelve (what is she doing all the way there anyway) is dancing around her, talking with her.

Adrianne Hawk, District Two's tribute, has left us as well and is…well, I don't really give a damn. In all, it leaves the usual career pack of six as four; Tassel Mylar, Tygraz Atilius, Amanda Teslin and me. We're looking to expand it a little more. For me, I would want two tributes as strong as us. I've already marked the boy from Seven though his easiness with Eight's girl suggests they may become allies.

Ten's and Three's boy seem ideal as well but they also look to be quite comfortable with their district partners. It irritates me a little that their partners present an obstacle but no matter, they'll be sure to accept when dear Amanda has asked them. Hah, the wannabe leader of the career pack.

Much to my frustration, Amanda has established herself as the leader. That position belongs to _me_ and me only. Not to anyone else and most definitely _not to her_. Tygraz had at first tried to exert dominance but he stepped aside when Amanda demanded to be leader.

"I did not demand to be leader; Tygraz is only a gentleman, unlike a _certain someone_."

Ah, the voice I have come to be acquainted with rather well. It even haunts me in my dreams. Always, it is so arrogant and superior-sounding. The sad thing is that both of us have known each other since we were six so we pretty much read each other like a book. I wonder what my expression was earlier.

"Good god, would it kill you two to stop bickering for even a moment?" Amanda's mentor, Aeris, demands from behind us.

We both jump and turn to face her. Sean hovers behind her, watching us with hooded eyes, lips pressed into a thin line. The two of us shift uneasily on our feet. Aeris lets out an impatient sigh and tosses her inky black hair behind her shoulder. The silver wedding band on her left ring finger catches the light and glints. I vaguely recall that she has a child back in the district. I think another victor is helping her take of the girl while she's here.

Sean places a hand on her left shoulder and draws her back, stepping in front of her.

"The rides are starting, get up onto the chariot and help Amanda up Caine," he coolly commands.

It irks me that I have to help _Mandy_ up onto the chariot since her gown looks rather easy to move in compared to the stiffer ones I've seen around but I daren't anger Sean. I did once, and got a few years shaved off my life.

I climb up onto the chariot and offer my hand to Amanda. She takes it with a frosty glare and I pull her up. To my surprise, I lift her up rather easily.

"Do whatever you like to garner the affection of the crowd," Aeris says. "Try not to kill each other."

She pauses for a moment and furrows her brows, right index and middle finger twisting the ring on her ring finger.

"You two get along rather well, you know," she adds with a wry smile.

"What?!" me and Amanda exclaim at the same time.

Speakers crackle overhead then and Caesar's booming voice silences everyone, including the audience waiting for our appearance.

"May we welcome the tributes of the 57th Annual Hunger Games!"

From the peripheral of my vision, I see District One's chariot move forward. One by one, the chariots move and I almost lose my balance when ours lurch forward. Amanda catches my arm and smirks before letting go.

The horses pull us into the blinding light and roaring applause.

Not once have I experienced anything like this. I've seen the awed and adoring faces of those back in Four, all aimed towards me, on stage before but this…this is on a much grander scale. This is love. This is adoration.

This…is also how it feels like to be posturing for an uncertain death.

But this is precisely why we are here in the first place, on the chariots, in our outfits, clamouring for attention. It is to ensure our survival and _I_ will ensure _mine_. I will impress them not only here but with my training score and during the interviews.

I see Amanda waving and smiling to the Capitol, even blowing a few kisses here and there. A fresh wave of determination washes through me and I immediately start to do the same. I even throw in a few winks here and there and I think I made one girl faint.

The bouquets, single roses and tokens falling from the seats cover the ground. I can hear Caesar and Claudius commenting on our outfits. Their remarks do not register in my head but I know that they are complimenting it. They have to when everyone one else is loving it.

And then the crowd's roar suddenly become so deafening that even the commenters are drowned out. I freeze, who is it? I hear hoots and screams of approval and then Caesar and Claudius come back to live with those few words:

"And District Twelve presents to us an impressive ensemble!"

**Leticia Karath, 29 (Avox)**

District Twelve is indeed impressive. The stylists for that district this year has finally broken away from the typical miner outfits and instead decked their tributes out in something so entirely different that the entire audience is silent. Morrigan on the other hand, has a grin on her face and is leaning forward, out of her box to have a better look.

It is no big secret that most stylists have decided to use body paint this year but District Twelve's stylists have done the best with it.

"Come, come, Leticia," Morrigan beckons and I obey. "Look at how spectacular Twelve's outfits are!"

The boy's face has a flame painted on the left side. His black hair is slicked back, curls framing his face. His gray eyes are hard yet blank, as if he has shut himself off from the world. His hands are clenched into fists. The short-sleeved jet black folded turtleneck shirt he wears is skintight; perhaps the only mistake as he has no muscles of any kind to show off. The skintight black pants he wears frays a little at the end but not so much it becomes distasteful. A large flame covers the left side of his costume and ends at the starting of his neck. It looks as if the flame has become a part of him.

His partner is dressed in a strapless black fishtail gown. It gradients into gray and like him, there is a flame on the left side of the gown. She wears long black gloves, flames on either side of them. Her left eye has a small yet distinct flame painted around it. She smiles and waves to the crowd unlike her stiff partner who only looks around.

The crowd cheers. More tokens that I can ever imagine rains down upon them and somehow, the girl manages to catch a rose. She presents it to the boy with a sweet smile and he accepts it, smiling back in return. Their chariot pulls into the circle and silence falls again. I wonder at the gesture, is it as innocent as it seems or does it imply something more?

My eyes go over the tributes gathered in City Circle. District One boasts two eighteen year olds wearing white costumes with cloaks around them, a crystal circlet with diamonds inset in it resting on their heads. The cloaks look to be made of a feather-like material from where I stand and their outfits are studded with light pink gems. The two volunteers look magnificent in it.

I skip over District Two, not wanting to see the cold and vicious expressions of the girl and boy any longer. District Three barely registers in my mind as Morrigan interrupts my viewing with a few curses aimed at Snow. It is lucky that no one else shares our box and that she has spoken softly. Or else, the consequences would be disastrous.

Snow stands at the podium then and Morrigan straightens, plastering a fake smile on her face. Anyone who knows her however, would see the darkening of her eyes. I do not dare to comfort her. Any sort of physical interaction between us that can be seen as affectionate would be detrimental to her ultimate goal. My stomach roils at the sight of Snow and my fingers curl up. Hate, Snow seems to be able to get it from everywhere.

He speaks, voice slicing through the silence. Something in me stirs as I hear him welcome the tributes to their inevitable deaths. It reminds me of events long past and what Morrigan had to go through to protect her beloved ones.

"Welcome, tributes, we welcome you. We salute your courage, and your sacrifice. And may the odds be _ever _in your favour."

Applause rings throughout City Circle. Snow stays there for a few more moments, basking in the Capitol's reverence for him. Before he turns, I see him lock eyes with Morrigan and it is only when she gives him the slightest of nods, does he step down from the podium.

The chariots start to disappear one by one and the crowd starts to scatter. Morrigan remains seated for a while more and I stand by her side. I cannot leave until she releases me, and she will not release me for a long time and nor will I leave her even if I resent the very thing she is doing.

"Leticia." Her voice is a whisper. "I swear that I will give you back your voice." It is firmer now, stronger and unwavering.

I nod despite knowing that she cannot see me, but I know that she already knows my reaction and what I would say.

"I'll force Snow's hand. And I am glad that Julius listened to you when you told him to rig District Eight's reapings. With Insane, I should be able to acquire back what you lost."

As she talks, she gazes distractedly into the distance, hands wringing the edge of her white dress shirt. She turns to me and smiles. Her dark green orbs lighten and my breath hitches. Insurmountable sadness washes through me and I bow my head, blinking away tears, trying in vain to ignore the grief in my heart.

I desire not what I lost but what we lost.

A sigh escapes from her and she stands. My eyes follow her feet and I look up when she is right in front of me. Arms wrap around me and I return the hug.

"This will be the first and the last," she murmurs. "After this is done, we can try to regain a part of our lost life, sister."

**Juniper Hazel, 16, Male (District Eleven)**

Despite the time of the night, lasers and lights still flash in the city. The lodging is secluded for the most part, away from the noise. An occasional bang or clatter can be heard at times but those become few and far in between when night approaches.

The chariot rides remain fresh in my mind. The gaudy costume now rests safely with Jacintha, my stylist. My mind instantly repels it from memory though I'm not exactly sad about that. I think ours were the least impressive and were borderline ugly. At least Rowenna pulled it off well though. I looked like…a skeleton. Though I suppose considering that I am a skeleton, I'll look skeletal in anything.

"Can't sleep?"

I startle at the sound of Rowenna's voice. She stands at my room's doorway, leaning on the frame, arms folded. She wears a tank top and pants, the white light behind her making it easy for me to see. She turns her back to me and switches off the kitchen light, casting the apartment back into darkness.

My eyes take a while to adjust and by the time it does, she is already seated at the edge of my bed. The distant city lights do little to illuminate. I can only see her profile. Any finer details are left to imagination.

"Why did you volunteer? Poplar isn't even related to you in the slightest." She says.

"I couldn't let him go. He's only twelve."

"None would care as much as you do. You do realise your chances aren't any better right?"

I flinch at the bluntness of the remark. It is true, all of it. I have no blood relation whatsoever to Poplar and because I come from the backwater part of the district, my chances are as close as zero. I have talked to Poplar before though and he was so pure and innocent.

"You managed to escape from the Hunger Games for four years of your life without being reaped. And just when you could escape the Hunger Games for another year, you volunteered. It's...foolish."

At this point, I'm starting to wonder if she's talking more about herself than me.

"You volunteered too." My statement sounds like an accusation.

"I had to."

"And so did I," I retort.

It pisses me off. How dare she pass judgments on other people without even knowing the actual truth behind it. So what if she comes from a well-to-do family? That doesn't give her the right to act mightier-than-thou*. She knows nothing at all. Nothing.

"And what's your reason?"

"Tch, go find out yourself from him if you survive," I reply snidely. Then, curious, I ask, "So why did you volunteer?"

"Go find out yourself if you survive," is her immediate answer.

"Stealing lines now, are we?" I demand, standing up and then nearly lose my balance after I step on myself.

A burst of laughter escapes from her and I see her double up. For some reason, I find myself start to laugh as well and soon, our laughter is in unison. We both force ourselves to quieten down however and my body shakes from controlled laughter. We wouldn't want to wake up our mentors.

She stands then and in the darkness, I see her hold out her hand. I grip it and we shake it once firmly.

"Truce," she states.

"Truce," I agree.

She leaves, closing the door behind her.

It's interesting. Rowenna and I have met a few times back home and each time, we have always butted heads with each other. It isn't that we both dislike each other but circumstances and personal views made arguments happen. Like we once argued over a piece of bread in a bakery. It only resolved when both of us reached the same conclusion at the same time to split it into half after one of us bought it. Then the argument started again though it was because I thought Rowenna had split it wrongly, one portion was bigger than the other.

Rolling my eyes, I flop onto my bed and roll over onto my stomach, staring at mahogany headboard. It stares back at me and I imagine drawing eyes on it. But it's kind of creepy now that I think about it. Having a pair of eyes watching over me while I sleep, like a stalker.

I flip back onto my bed and gaze at the ceiling. I know I should sleep but I can't. Training is tomorrow. I have to make allies tomorrow but how do I make allies? Talk to them? Show off? But I have nothing to show off except my memory and I doubt anyone would want a guy with only a good memory. Maybe…I can try asking Rowenna but she's so strong…

I let out a groan of frustration and yank my pillow out from under my head. I place it on top of my face and go over my options. No one willing to ally with me comes to mind but…I have to try anyway, right?

My mind wanders to Poplar and I wonder how he is coping back home. It is true that I have only exchanged a few words with him, literally. He's a mute and is constantly bullied because of that. The few times I have interacted with him are all on paper. I don't have any obligation to take care or protect him but I still do, because I cannot erase the memory of the eight year old boy beaten and left for dead in a downpour.

A few tears leak out of my closed eyes and roll down my cheeks. It starts off as a soft sob at first before dissolving into cries. I keep it down though. Having someone see me cry is the last thing I want. I curl up on my side in a foetal position and allow the tears to flow. My hand clutches the golden grain necklace I wear.

"I'm sorry, Poplar, I'm so sorry," I whisper. "I don't think I'll be coming back."

_Blood-stained splatters_

_Motives made clear_

_And laughter that haunts_

* * *

**A/N:**_  
_

***-Yes, this is on purpose. The actual saying is holier-than-thou.**

**I took an entire day to complete this chapter, starting from Caine's. I wrote Air's over the weekend and her name is punny. How'd you like the chariot rides? I got some brilliant ideas this time and I'm sorry if I didn't portray the district you wanted to see. And yes, Aeris is a mentor. I'll be updating WLBP with the final chapter soon. **

**About District Twelve's outfits, if I remember correctly, the book did state that the costumes have been miners for as long as Katniss remembers but I decided to deviate this time since I couldn't let go of the idea for Augusta's outfit. **

**We shall see some action in the training chapter :P, look forward to it! Oh right, does anyone know how to delete a signed review?**


	4. Chapter 3: Changing Shadows

_Hiding, darting, haunting_

**Insane Velvet, 14, Male (District Eight)**

Morrigan Warfire slides into the seat opposite me. Her carmine lips are curled into a smirk. Her fingernails are scarlet. This woman is dressed entirely in red. It takes all of my willpower to not lash out at her as hatred brews.

I hate red.

I still remember the scarlet that pools around her body. She didn't die happily. She died in terror and fear, in one of her worse moments, when I wasn't there. I wasn't there to protect her. It's my entire fault, her death, her frailness, her vulnerability, all of it. I can go on, I can moan about the 'I should have' and 'what should have really happened' but it's pointless. All of it is so fucking pointless because she's already dead.

The only thing I know now is to paint others in hypnotizing shades of red. Let them experience the same pain and rage I feel. They deserve to see the vibrant red flowing through their bodies. See it all ooze out bit by bit, drop by drop and others do not even deserve that mercy.

"Insane Velvet," Morrigan says. Her voice is sultry and low, as if she wants to seduce me.

I flick my eyes to her then back at the corner of the grey wall again. Laughter bubbles up and out of her, the sound bouncing off the walls. My hand curls into a fist. I have to control; I cannot punch her even though the desire is on the verge of consuming me.

"Or should I say Rex? Rex Velvet?" she coos.

"Shut up!" I burst out my chair and slap her. "I'm not Rex," I snarl.

"Then why answer," her eyes dance delightedly and gestures for me to sit down again. She is not in the least bit affected by me hitting her.

I hoist up the chair and fall back into it sullenly. Yes, Rex Velvet, but that was before, before, before. Before everything crumbled and became only pieces that could not be pieced back together.

Morrigan giggles once more and leans forward. Shaking her head, she _'tsks'_ and waves one finger at me.

"Don't you know you shouldn't mistake another girl for your dead little sister? But oh, never mind that, I could care less about it actually. Attacking a tribute before the actual Hunger Games is very serious. You're lucky she didn't die or else…the consequences would have been even more severe."

Personally, I thought I would have been whipped by a Peacekeeper or something close to that. I did not expect to be seated in an interrogation room with the evidently mad Head Gamemaker.

"Rex…" I wish she would stop calling me that. "…I have a proposal. Agree with me and I shall reveal all the secrets of the arena to you."

Her eyes capture mine. Her hand reaches forward and she places it on top of mine. The offer is indeed seductive but what could she want so badly that she would ask me this?

It hits me then.

"You intend to use me for whatever plot you have in mind."

"You're the only tribute who would agree in the first place," she argues.

Well, true. I don't have anything to lose anymore. I have nothing else I want to protect but that Six girl keeps coming to mind… Satin…the very way she carries herself, the guarded look in her eyes…everything.

"Only if you'll guarantee safety for Air Port," my only demand, surely she would grant it.

"Deal," she grins and leans back in her chair.

Her smile vanishes and she starts to talk.

**_3 hours earlier_**

**Adrianne Hawk, 15, Female (District Two)**

A form-fitting suit clings to me. Above my heart, my district number is coloured in graphite and the ring around it is in the same colour. I wound my dark brown hairband around my hair once more and let it snap into place. Brushing my bangs out of my eyes, I walk out of my room…and straight into Tygraz.

His glacier blue eyes take me in and he snorts. Nevertheless, I smile sweetly at him and make to the exit, well aware that our stone-faced mentors are watching us.

"Adrianne." His voice stops me and I turn around to face him. "Come back."

It is an order. I know my decision will make them mark me but I have already made up my mind and fully intend to stick to it.

"I already said no multiple times, Tygraz. So can you please leave it?"

He shrugs and walks past me. "Fine, but it's your loss." His chuckle does not escape me.

Rolling my eyes, I walk to the elevator and take it down to the training floor. We cross to where the Head Trainer is waiting for us. The group gathered in front of him is still rather small and the tributes have all broken up to interact with others. Well, except for the few who isolate themselves.

The Head Trainer is a tall and slim black-haired tanned man. His hair is wavy and frames his face. Hawk-yellow eyes roam around and when our eyes meet, it does not even give me the barest of acknowledgment. He wears a suit –which I found odd since I thought trainers were supposed to wear skin-tight suits like ours- and everything about him screams stiff.

This man, I realise, does not even care if we die or live. He is only doing as instructed. It does make sense that he doesn't bother but it irks me to see such apathy.

The double doors swing open and the pair from Four enters arguing. Their voices are loud enough to fill the entire room (which is pretty big) and it is soon made known that their argument is about the _most trivial_ of things. They are quarrelling over who finished breakfast the fastest.

I don't even-

"Coming through!" a sing-song voice calls and the girl from Ten barges her way through Caine and Amanda, her partner in tow.

Caine and Amanda both turn to Vanessa with identical glares on their faces. She joyfully ignores it and pulls Finch to the distorted semi-circle that was slowly forming. I don't hear the two start up the quarrel again.

When the final tribute enters, the trainer claps his hands together for attention.

"I am Xenon Blue, the Head Trainer for this year. What I am about to tell you is extremely important for your survival so remember it well." His tone is monotonous and he even yawns.

What he tells us is something that I have heard many times. Though not specifically training in an academy back home, the careers simply love to talk and show off all their wonderful knowledge about the Hunger Games. My siblings have caught snippets of it and told me all about it. Not to mention the other times when I am out and heading into the upper class district, where the careers frequent, to steal food.

Xenon finishes reciting his lines and climbs the staircase leading up to the mezzanine above. Everyone scatters, some already going with formed alliances albeit small ones. As for me, I stand at the side and look around.

I have already discussed my strategy with Reina. In spite of that, I do feel a little lost as to how to begin. Or maybe, it is not because I feel lost but my siblings hover at the edge of my mind. It is easy to have other things occupy my mind but once that is gone…they come back.

Simply, I miss them.

_"Adrianne, you must come back!" _

And I will, because they need me.

Emboldened with this resolve, I stride forward and head to the hand-to-hand combat station. Klint stands there and listens attentively to the trainer briefing him on the basics of hand-to-hand. Having been caught several times while stealing back home, I have some experience in this area. Who would have thought that I would need my self-learned skills to help me in the Hunger Games arena?

I step up to the trainer and politely interrupt by clearing my throat.

"I'll like to spar with him."

Klint looks absolutely startled but before he can say anything, the trainer pushes us both into the sparring area. I prepare myself and watch him do the same. I smile. He has experience, this should be fun.

And I am right. At the end of our sparring session, the two of us are panting, hands on our knees. Beads of perspiration roll down my cheeks and drop onto the floor. I look up and see the same thing happening to Klint. We gather up the strength to walk out of the sparring area. As much as I want to sit on the floor, I know it would be a show of weakness and I absolutely cannot show weakness in front of the other tributes.

Klint walks off to another station. I straighten and stretch a little before deciding to head over to the rope climbing but stop and think for a moment. The way Klint moved during our sparring session was vaguely reminiscent of how the careers wrestled back in the district- whenever I caught sight of them. Naturally, it was a little rough around the edges but still skilled enough.

I change my direction and jog after Klint, easily catching up with him.

"Hey."

Klint starts and whirls around to face me. My lips curl up into a little smirk at his reaction.

"Do you want to ally?" I ask.

"Me?" his face shows undisguised surprise.

"Duh, who else would I be talking to?"

He blushes a little before breaking out into a smile. "Sure."

**Rowenna Aspen, Female, 17 (District Eleven)**

Dodge to the right, twist to the left, duck, jump, and turn to the left, twist to the right, bend, grab the sword and slice the dummy's head off.

The barrage of daggers and knives aimed at me stop the instant I cut off the dummy's head and I let out a sigh of relief. The blades were blunted but at a fast enough speed, they still could injure a little. The trainer congratulates me and makes me sit while he applies ointment on the wounds I sustained from the earlier rounds. While he does that, I watch Air nimbly avoid the weapons.

She manages to reach the sword and has to hold it up with two hands. She swings it, nearly throwing herself off balance but succeeds in embedding the sword in the dummy's neck. A dagger hits her in the side but she ignores it and swings the sword again. This time, the dummy's head comes off cleanly and the weapons stop firing at her.

Air drops the sword and she trudges out of the fenced in area. She collapses in the chair next to me and the trainer goes to tend to her next.

"You did well," I comment while watching Insane do the same exercise. He seems to be fooling around.

"No…that stab at the end would be fatal in the long run…if it happened in the Games," Air pants out her response. She thanks the trainer once he finishes then looks at Insane.

Insane, once seeing he has Air's attention turns serious. His speed increases though he still gets hit here and there when he gets careless. Finally, he reaches the sword and pulls it off the floor in one fluid motion. Almost effortlessly, he beheads the dummy. My eyes narrow. His skill with handling blades is superb. Why would a District Eight boy be so good with swords and the like? Did he have any training?

Insane dumps the sword on the floor with a clatter and comes to us. The trainer goes to fix him up. Insane smiles at me and Air. An air of confidence surrounds him.

"That was very well done, but I would appreciate it if you didn't play around like that in the arena." Air glares at him and his only reaction is to smirk and laugh. He reaches over and ruffles her hair. She swats his hand away, irritated.

"You'll be with me in the arena so don't worry," he replies and pauses. After a moment, adds, "Satin."

That name instantly causes Air to flare up. "I already told you I'm not Satin!"

The shout draws looks from the tributes in earshot, particularly the careers. A cold stare from me makes the tributes look away except for Juniper and the careers. Juniper's attention is drawn back to his station when Tamisyn tugs lightly on his sleeve. I lock eyes with Amanda and she gives me a haughty smile. Her chin tilts up a little and she turns her back to me. Rejecting an invite from her, the careers leader, to join them marked me as a target already. I refuse to join those who train only the Hunger Games even if it allowed me to have a higher chance of survival.

"You remind me so much of her though," Insane's tone starts to become a lot more wistful. "Your mannerisms…how you speak…"

Air becomes increasingly agitated and I decide to step in before she snaps at him.

"Insane, stop it and Air, calm down." I turn to Insane. "Stop comparing Air to Satin, they are _different_. And we don't need to give the other tributes an opportunity to break up our alliance. Agreed?"

Insane scowls at me but slowly nods. I look at Air and notice how she twists the ring she wears on her finger around. She stares at it and seems to be calming down the more she touches and looks at it.

Quietly, she answers, "All right."

"Please give me strength, Rest," she murmurs. It is obviously something not meant for others to hear and I suddenly feel as if I have intruded upon something private.

We stand up and after surveying the stations, decide to head to the plant station. Little conversation is made and it is only about whether we could identify any plants. I said I could; growing up in the agriculture district provided a distinct advantage in that aspect. Air and Insane are both clueless.

As we walk, I realise something. We have to walk past the throwing knife training station to get to the plant one and Vanessa Carlton is there with her district partner. I let Insane and Air walk ahead first. I pause and look at Vanessa who is staring at Air, her hand on a throwing knife. The grip tightens and the hand lifts the knife off the table a little. Her partner doesn't seem to notice, too engrossed in the target practice, and still the knife rises higher and higher.

"AIR!" I shout.

In one swift motion, Vanessa snatches the throwing knife off the table and throws it at Air. The knife slices through the air and buries itself in Air's arm. She shrieks in pain. Blood comes forth and starts to trickle down her arm. The Peacekeepers keeping watch from the sides rush forward. But not fast enough to stop Insane from yanking the knife out of Air's arm, pure rage on his face, and hurling it back at Vanessa.

The knife hits her squarely in the gut and she screams. She falls to the floor, blood starting to pool around her.

The Peacekeepers split into three groups. One tears Insane apart from Air and drags him away while the other brings Air elsewhere. The final group forces Vanessa to stand and brings her away.

The already tense atmosphere becomes heavy and no one speaks a word. The boy from Ten has an expression of pure shock. Many others look as if they can't quite believe what they have just seen. And I…I'm stunned.

Xenon claps his hands twice to draw our attention upwards. He stands at the balcony and places his hands on the railing.

"Tributes, the training session for the day shall end early. Do not allow a repeat of this incident. That is all, you are dismissed."

He does not speak anything else of the incident and coldly watches from above. His facial expression is completely unreadable unlike the Gamemakers from behind him. They are laughing and chatting away. It disgusts me. The Head Gamemaker draws my attention in particular though. Not engaging in any of the merry-making above, she instead quietly observes us. But her calculating expression chills me. She stands and leaves, making me wonder just what is going through her mind.

Juniper comes to my side and he is pale.

"Y-you're pale too…Rowenna…" he says.

I swallow and whisper to him. "I think our Hunger Games is going to be even more brutal than this."

Just what the Hunger Games exactly is has only just hit me.

It is merciless slaughter for survival.

**_Present time_**

**Insane Velvet, Male, 14 (District Eight)**

Morrigan finishes explaining to me what exactly it is she wants me to do. I can only stare at her in utter disbelief. Is she mad?! I convey to her my exact sentiments. Her response is laughter. She truly believes that her plan could work.

"You know, Snow probably already knows and the only reason why he's keeping you around is to make an example out of you."

After all, what better way to keep citizens in check than to make use of a betrayer? Then again, Head Gamemakers suddenly disappearing after they complete their job aren't too much of a surprise. Or something like that anyway.

"There's no way he knows. The only other person I've told this is to someone who can't tell," she replies confidently but her eyes waver a little.

Can't? The usage of that word intrigues me but I get a feeling that she will not speak any further on that matter. I smile at her. Everyone has their own secrets.

"So to clarify, you want me to destroy the forcefield around the arena or try to at least. Because that will lead you to attaining your goal whatever that is." I pause. "Have I mentioned that you're crazier than me?"

"Yes and thrice actually." She starts to look irritated with me but I merely shrug. Taking part in this would mean death for me if Snow ever found out, provided he doesn't already know. I very much prefer surviving if at least to make sure Air does live through the Games. After all, how much would I be able to trust Morrigan's word? We're only in this weird alliance thing for our own interests. We could care less if the other dies.

I lean back in my chair and contemplate for a while. I can make even better use of this situation.

"I could let this be known publicly," her eyes widen in horror, "unless you give me something even more than Air's immunity."

I let this sink in for a moment. Morrigan slowly leans back into her chair, her fists unclenching and clenching. Right now, I hold power over her. I'll be damned if I didn't make use of it.

"No one will believe you," she whispers.

"Oh really?" my reply comes quick. "Your plan is a rebellion and therefore you, the mastermind, are a rebel. Anything or anyone that dares to incite a rebellion no matter how slight will be put to death instantly, even if untrue."

I know I am right, with absolute certainty. Morrigan knows this too. The dread on her face says it all. Remarkably, she brings her expression under control and the blank façade returns.

"So, what is it that you want?"

An agreement; I smile. I lean forward and rest my chin on the top of my hands.

"I want to know everything about the arena; the mutts, traps, whether there is anything else planned- everything."

"Everything?" she chuckles. "That is a little too demanding. I'll only tell you the mutts. Oh and one more thing, don't think you can get away with throwing threats at me so easily. I still have enough time to find a replacement for you."

I sigh. The last thing I need is to be killed even before I entered the arena because of some mistake I made. I want to be there to protect Air.

I spread my hands out and grin, "Deal."

_Blindness_

* * *

**A/N: I'm alive, very much so. Sorry for not updating for a few months. Some stuff happened in real life and I just...couldn't write anymore. I'm back though, but expect updates to be sparse.**


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